The Princess and her Butler
by SeresVictoria
Summary: An adaptation beginning with the end of season one Kuroshitsuji, including part of season two. The previous queen is dead and now a young princess has come forward to claim the throne, with a handsome young butler in tow. Will her reign end in disaster?
1. Prologue

**-Prologue-**

The city was burning. A cathedral engulfed in scarlet flames, cleansed by the body of an angel.

The purifying rays of the new dawn fell on the limp figure crucified on the bridge of angels. Its arms were spread out almost in welcome relief as death evaporated from its stiff limbs. Surrounded in a halo of light, the angel seemed to disintegrate, its body dissipating with the dimming light.

As a new day began, the remnants of darkness coalesced into a single white feather...


	2. Chapter 1

**-Chapter 1-**

In the council chambers of the Buckingham palace, the Queen's adviser called for silence. Shuffling slowly to the centre of the room, his dusty brown robes trailing behind him, Adviser Galen was the very picture of a derelict old man. However, those watching him knew better than to underestimate one of the most powerful men in the kingdom. With all the patience of vipers, they silently watched and waited as he began to speak.

"With the death of Queen Victoria, a new reign must begin. As the Queen has named no heir, upon her demise the throne should pass accordingly to the nearest blood relative of the Queen... Princess Carmelia."

His duty now discharged, the old adviser sighed as if a huge burden had been lifted off his shoulders. This would not be the first time he had to announce the death of monarch. He had survived two of them. He fervently hoped the third would outlast him or England would be doomed. His thin figure trembling, he stoically faced the chaos that ensued.

"Princess Carmelia is too young to rule!" Lord Lancaster exclaimed. "She is barely thirteen. Duke Lawrence, second cousin of the Queen would be a much better choice!"

Despite his earlier appearance of frailty, Advisor Galen's shoulders seemed to straighten as he stood at his full height, staring down at Lord Lancaster with piercing blue eyes, his raspy voice weak but firm.

"It is the laws of this kingdom which dictate, the last monarch's closest kin is to inherit the mantle of royal authority. Unless of course he or she chooses to abdicate, or is found unfit to rule by the Council of Nobles in a fair trial. Any legitimate objections should hence be raised to the council."

"However" he continued softly, "tread carefully, for should any plot or conspiracy be discovered with aims to deny the rightful heir to the throne, it shall be deemed as treason to the crown and treated accordingly."

Adviser Galen's threatening gaze was not lost on the nobles present. All of them fell silent almost immediately, their expressions cautious but not intimidated. Only Lord Lancaster spoke up red-faced with embarrassment and anger, furious at the subtle insinuation.

"I have only England's best interest in heart! All of us are merely concerned about placing the fate of our country in the hands of a little girl. A girl, I might add, whose face have never been seen by any of us!"

The nobles murmured in agreement, content to watch Lord Lancaster argue for their cause while cunningly planning the removal of a certain princess. However, if Lord Lancaster appeared ruffled and irate, Adviser Galen could only be described as a modicum of calm, completely unperturbed by Lord Lancaster's outburst.

"I am aware of that." Advisor Galen coolly replied, "Which is why I have taken the liberty of inviting her here today."

"Aww... It seems the shows already over." a soft voice exclaimed, piqued by the adviser's words.

At the corner of the chamber hidden by an intricate flower screen, the princess emerged. She was clothed entirely in black, mourning clothes for her deceased aunt. The delicate lace at her throat and wrists modestly emphasized her fair skin and small hands. Her hair, however, was completely undone and left to fall freely in cascade of black curls that framed her doll-like eyes which were a colour reminiscent of the silvery dawn, an ash mauve that held no warmth despite its innocence.

Behind the princess stood her butler, also dressed in black wearing smart white gloves that was a trademark of his profession. His white blond hair was stylishly cut and neatly combed, with not a strand out of place. His eyes, however, were an odd shade of scarlet that glinted red under the light. His gaze was both possessive and approving on his mistress as she confronted the group of nobles with confidence, poise and not a single trace of fear.

"Good afternoon, my lords." the princess said, her lilting voice echoing in the shocked silence that announced her arrival.

"Princess Carmelia!" Lord Lancaster gasped. "We... We were not expecting you, your royal highness, or we would have prepared a better welcome."

"That won't be necessary" the princess said, smiling sweetly.

"As Adviser Galen has said, I am merely here to meet with you my lords to assuage your fears, and I hope that you will support the crown in whatever ways necessary for the good of the kingdom."

"Yes, yes of course, your highness" Lord Lancaster said, mortified. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he faced the princess, uncertain of her reaction. Princess Carmelia, on the other hand, seemed to savour the silence that followed as she gazed with a child-like curiosity at each of the nobles.

"Well then, if that will be all I shall take my leave. I'm sure Galen can handle any other doubts that you lords might have."

With that parting line, the princess smiled innocently and swept out of the room, leaving the nobles to mutter uneasily at the new complication.

On the other side of the door, Princess Carmelia too seemed deep in thought as she mused to herself.

"The game has barely begun and the pieces are already moving."

"You should be more cautious, mistress." Her butler replied seriously, his beautiful face expressionless. Only his eyes seemed to hint at some morbid humour hidden below the façade of calm as he gazed down at his mistress. However, for the barest of instants, it almost seemed as though his lips twitched in a semblance of a smile, before disappearing again in a flash.

"I know" She returned, giving a lilting laugh as she gazed up at her butler with childish delight.

"Say, Grigori, I think this is going to be so much fun."


	3. Chapter 2

**-Chapter 2-**

The sun illuminated the beauty of the Queen's garden as Princess Carmelia sat enjoying her morning tea. It was a pleasant spring morning, perfectly matched with the light aroma of fresh rose tea. Staring at the sea of flowers, one could see the breath of spring in the colourful blossoms sprinkled artistically throughout the well-tended garden. The flowers too bowed gracefully as though in homage to spring, swaying as the wind ruffled their delicate stems in a flurry of petals. Yet seated in the warm peacefulness of nature, it was perhaps somehow inevitable that darkness would intrude.

"Mistress, there is a message for you from Adviser Galen. It seems the crown jewels have gone missing."

Princess Carmelia did not seem to have heard Grigori as he delivered the message, barely tilting her head to acknowledge his presence. In her gloved hands, the precious china cup tinkled as it was placed delicately back on its base. Lifting her head up to the sunlight, an angelic smile lit up her face with a pure glow. Turning her head slightly to her right, one silvery eye came to rest upon the still form of her butler.

"Why so serious, Grigori? They've finally made their move, and here I was thinking I'd probably die of boredom first. How's 'that matter' coming along?"

"Everything has been taken care of, Mistress. The Noble House of Trancy has been informed of our upcoming visit." he replied, betraying no emotion. Sometimes, she wondered if he even had any. No matter, emotions could never survive in darkness, not even despair. The only thing one could feel would be the cold numbness of paralysed fear, and even then, that would eventually disappear as well – into nothingness.

This world was steeped in darkness.

With a clash, the teacup shattered on the patio floor, a rainbow ray of colours reflecting on the broken shards. On the fingertips of her white gloves, a light brown stain spread slowly upwards, soaking the fabric. Inspecting her glove with fascination, Princess Carmelia held it up to the light and watched as the darkness spread.

"You've done well, Grigori. Now, let's go play with this spider and see just how poisonous it can be."

Dressed in her usual black attire complete with high collar, lace and trimmings, Princess Carmelia sat gracefully on the velvet cushions of the carriage as they travelled into the Trancy Estate. With a slender hand, she drew away the curtains to take a peek at the elegant mansion. Surrounded by well-tended gardens and many a statue and fountain, it had the art and grace of its noble ancestry. The architecture was common as all English mansions were, yet outstanding in its unusual decorations of blue and gold – the colours of the house of Trancy.

As the carriage rumbled to a halt, Princess Carmelia waited expectantly as her butler alighted first before helping her down the carriage. He too was dressed in his usual attire, an immaculate gray suit with white gloves. His appearance was never beyond reproach even in the most hostile of environments. Today, it was even more so.

Princess Carmelia was greeted at the gate by a loud and capricious young boy, presumably the young Earl – Alois Trancy. He appeared to be about fourteen, dressed in a white shirt of fine quality linen contrasted with a dark green vest and purple coat. His attire, however, was unusual to say the least as it was most uncommon to see a boy his age (almost a young man) dressed in shorts and high boots. Despite his eccentricity in attire, he appeared quite charming with his blond hair and baby blue eyes. He seemed quite eager to meet her, smiling with an almost fanatical gleam in his eye.

If his manner was eager, then Princess Carmelia's reaction could only be described as lukewarm. After all the introductions had been made, they were led into the parlour by the Trancy butler to settle down to business. Alois, on the other hand, seemed to be in no mood for business. Carmelia had barely settled down onto the cushioned divan when he sprang up with all the agility of youth to introduce his butler, Claude Faustus. Claude was dressed entirely in black except for his white gloves and his eyes gleamed intelligently under his well-polished spectacles. However, he seemed somehow out of place in the blue and gold and white of the Trancy mansion.

Despite being made an exhibit of, Claude made no action to express any displeasure, standing as still as statue until Alois was done. Similarly, Princess Carmelia only smiled faintly through his incessant blabber as if in amusement at his antics. Grigori, however, was not so tolerant. With an elegant flourish, he poured a cup of tea for his mistress, subtly hinting at her masked impatience.

Alois may yet have continued with his games if Claude had not finally settled him down on the armchair with a nudge. Gazing innocently at Alois with a slight smile on her lips, Princess Carmelia waited for the silence to settle before finally speaking.

"I have a job for you, an important one that might insure your services to the crown for the next few decades. That is, if you succeed of course."

Playing her role to perfection, Princess Carmelia took a sip of tea before continuing, her ash mauve eyes intent on his.

"The crown jewels have gone missing and my coronation is one month from now. Your orders are simple, retrieve the crown jewels and eliminate those responsible. A relatively simple task if the rumours I have heard about you are true." She said slowly, a silky smile transforming her face into one of seeming admiration. Settling herself more comfortably into the divan, her large eyes divulged nothing as Alois Trancy's face fell away into one of malice and cunning.

"Of course, Your Highness, we would not want to lose the opportunity to serve the crown. We will destroy your troubles in the darkness." Although his lips were curled into a smile, his blue eyes were cold as ice and just as inhumane. Finally lifting the cup to savour his tea, his tongue darted out almost deliberately as he licked his lips in satisfaction, partially displaying a mark tattooed onto his tongue. A tattoo of a pentagon drawn within a five-pointed star, surrounded by a circle touched by the five points of the star.

Tilting her head slightly, she acknowledged his reply, and silently acknowledged her adversary. It was a bold statement, displaying that mark in front of her, the mark of his soul and demon. A move only one so confident or perhaps one so foolish would make. It was probably the latter, she thought. No matter, she could still make use of fools, even a cunning one such as him. Finishing her tea, Princess Carmelia placed it gently onto the saucer, admiring the beautiful gold and white pattern as she did so.

"Well then, I shall be looking forward to good news. Meanwhile, Grigori will collect whatever information or communication possible. I believe I shall be seeing you again soon."

With a pleasant smile, she bid him farewell as if parting with an old friend. Yet underneath that pleasant exterior, she was simmering with other plans. Motioning for her butler to follow, she swept into the hallway as the Trancy butler led them out of the mansion and into the sunlight once more.

Waving goodbye to Alois, she absent-mindedly arranged her skirts on the velvet seat as they rolled out of the Trancy estate. Her eyes were contemplative as they stared out the window at the passing scenery. The evening light streamed into the carriage through the open window, highlighting her high cheekbones and small mouth with an innocent blush. Her liquid silver eyes, however, told a different story.

"What a boring day, Grigori." She sighed, glancing at the still figure next to her, his face thrown into shadow.

"I think its time we added a different piece to the board. Send a message to the Phantomhive Estate. Maybe a little competition will spice things up."

Turning back to the window, it seemed to her as though the sky was painted a vivid hue of red. A pretty colour, she thought – the colour of blood.


	4. Chapter 3

**-Chapter 3-**

_The next day, at the Phantomhive mansion…_

A young boy named Ciel Phantomhive awoke in his expensive canopied bed to the distinctive aroma of earl grey tea. Sitting up, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes as his butler opened the heavy drapes, letting in the morning sunshine. Without any sign of acknowledgement, Ciel waited nonchalantly as his butler initiated the morning ritual of dressing him in his pristine white undershirt, dark blue shorts, vest and coat, not to mention black stockings and boots. Picking up the eye patch laid diligently at his bedside, he carefully covered his right eye. Although his natural eye color was a deep indigo blue, Ciel's right eye was of a curiously purple hue. Furthermore, imprinted on his eye was the symbol of an inverted five pointed star surrounded in a circle of adjoining diamonds which formed a spiky ring like a deformed iris around the star.

Fully dressed now, Ciel sipped his morning tea staring at the murky depths of the dark liquid. Meanwhile, his butler silently slipped a rectangular cut sapphire ring onto his left thumb. The ritual now complete, he stood up and faced Ciel with a slight smile on his lips.

"Young master, there has been an urgent message from Princess Carmelia. I have placed it on your desk for you to attend to after breakfast." His duty done, the butler gave a slight bow, his black tailcoats swaying slightly as he exited the room.

Left to his own thoughts once more, Ciel looked up from his tea glancing speculatively at the door. "The Princess, huh?"

Meanwhile, at the Tower of London, police inspectors were frantically combing every inch of the room where the crown jewels had previously been meticulously kept under lock and key. However, despite all the advanced equipment and methods they used, not a single shred of evidence was found that could have pointed them towards the thief. Amidst all the pandemonium of shifting feet and carefully labeled useless evidence, only one boy stood aloofly at the side. He seemed completely disinterested in the investigations except for the dead body lying barely two feet away from where he stood. In fact, Alois Trancy was practically giggling as he stared at the blood oozing its way into the carpet.

"Earl, I really must insist that you leave us to our investigation." From the crowd of busy investigators, a burly man emerged. He was clad in a black waistcoat and jacket, with neatly pressed trousers and a fashionable bushy moustache on his upper lip. His complexion was ruddy and his glasses perched on a large bulbous nose. His hair, however, was unkempt despite his attempts to comb it into submission and had been stuffed unmercifully into a bowler hat.

"Lord Randall" Alois started, his face instantly transforming into one of childish delight.

"So, have you found anything?" Alois' baby blue eyes sparkled with excitement as he turned on the investigator.

"No, I'm afraid not." Lord Randall replied, irritated to have to be babysitting another pet of the Royal Family while doing his job. He would never understand what the Crown saw in using immature useless children like the boy in front of him for such important matters. This 'Earl' was in fact no better than a common street rat; and so was Ciel Phantomhive for that matter. Glancing down at Alois' enthusiastic face, he tried to conceal another wave of anger and irritation. No matter his opinions, it would not do well to offend the Crown's pets.

"Earl, I must insist. Our men at Scotland Yard are the best in the field. I can assure you that the case is in safe hands and your presence here is entirely unnecessary." Straining himself to be polite, Lord Randall was hardly aware that his face was turning an ugly shade of purple, or that his eyes glaring daggers at Alois. However, Alois only seemed even more animated despite his blatant annoyance.

"There's no need to be modest. I'm sure you'll find something soon." Alois replied grinning cheekily, while the inspector seemed about to have a fit restraining himself from responding to the blatant insinuation. Grinning to himself, Alois turned and gestured to Claude who stood at attention a few feet behind him. The inspector silently heaved a sigh of relief as he realized that the Earl was finally leaving. 'Good riddance', he thought darkly, mentally cursing Alois Trancy to the farthest depths of hell. He could not wait to be rid of this insulting blond-haired nuisance and get back to some real sleuthing. Meanwhile, Alois was still apologizing for his early departure in a relatively cheerful manner and assuring Lord Randall, much to his dismay, that he would be back soon to check on any further findings.

Alois was still imagining the inspector's purple face in a fit of apoplexy as he skipped through the crime scene and out of the room, waving at Lord Randall until he was out the door. Once outside, however, his entire countenance changed. It was as though the sunny personality he had exhibited in the room never existed. Instead it was replaced by a cruelty and inhumanity which could be seen through his hooded eyes. With a vicious sneer, he glanced back at the holding room of the Crown Jewels, at the fat inspector bending over the blood stains on the floor.

"Useless piece of shit." He muttered. However, turning back to Claude, his demeanor changed once again into one of smiles and adoration.

"Claude, what did you find?"

Despite the warmth of his manner, his butler seemed as cool and distant as ever. Adjusting his spectacles with a gloved hand, Claude's golden eyes were as cold as his master's and betrayed no emotion.

"The custodian was stabbed in the chest by a common knife which carried no fingerprints. The crime scene was clean and the only trace of evidence to be found was that of a soft powder on the lapels of the custodian's coat. I have -"

Claude was suddenly interrupted midway through his report by the sound of clapping as Alois danced around him, clapping his hands. His eyes were bright with admiration as he joyfully pranced about.

"Brilliant, Claude!" Alois declared laughing gaily. "Brilliant!"

"Competence is the mark of a Trancy butler." Claude replied modestly as he produced a white handkerchief from the inside of his jacket. The handkerchief was embroidered with the coat of arms of the House of Trancy and had a slight trace of gray powder on it which marred the perfect white linen.

"I have identified the powder as an expensive and unique cosmetic powder exclusively produced by the brand _Beauté_." Claude continued, taking no notice of his master's childish antics.

"Tracing the owner of this powder may hence lead us to the Crown Jewels and the thief who stole them." He finally concluded, his golden eyes grave yet gleaming with intelligence and satisfaction at his analysis. Glancing down at his master, he found Alois curiously silent and still, his manner once more cold and withdrawn. Only his glittering eyes seemed to be staring out of the darkness that shrouded him. Even the cruel planes of his face were shadowed against the warm morning light that filtered in through the glass windows behind him. The darkness of Alois Trancy was one that Claude understood all too well and he relished it as only a demon could. After all, demons thrived only because humans did, and human hearts were easily stained by darkness.

"Claude," Alois commanded, his mouth slowly twisting into a cruel smile. "Catch this thief and make him squeal."

Claude's golden eyes shone with something akin to approval as he looked up at the icy blue eyes of his master. Kneeling on one leg, he bowed with a graceful flourish.

"Yes, your Highness."


	5. Chapter 4

**-Chapter 4-**

_Later that afternoon, at the Buckingham Palace…_

Princess Carmelia reclined on the plush velvet sofa of the palace playroom, surrounded by dolls. This playroom although seemingly new had long been unused. It had once been designed specifically for the Princess although she had never deigned to visit it. Around her, the furnishings and décor were of the utmost opulence. Even the curtains were trimmed in gold thread. They framed the beautifully designed stained glass windows with great folds of cloth, arranged to the utmost elegance. Not a single surface lay untouched in the glittering room. The ceiling itself had been painted with cherubs, unicorns and other mythological creatures that would have struck any childhood fancy. Lush and comfortable sofas together with elaborately carved tables and matching chairs were also placed strategically throughout the huge room, with each positioned in such a way that they were illuminated by the waterfall of colored lights that shone through the windows.

Princess Carmelia, however, seemed completely unmoved by the luxury and opulence around her. Perhaps she did not notice or maybe she simply chose not to care. Whatever the reason, the grandness of her playroom just did not hold any interest for her. The object that had her interest, however, was a little porcelain doll. It had been made to look exactly like the princess, even down to the small dimple at the corner of her smiling mouth and the shade of her ash mauve eyes. Her larger counterpart, on the other hand, was nowhere near smiling. Instead, Princess Carmelia's furrowed brow and flashing eyes were the exact opposite of the sweet smiling face of the doll. Holding the doll in one hand and a pair of silver scissors in the other, Princess Carmelia began cutting off the black curls attached to the dolls head. With each snip, the doll seemed to lose more of its beauty and grace; and with each lock of hair that fell, Princess Carmelia became ever more enraged, her scissors sniping and slicing faster than before.

As the last lock of hair fell, Princess Carmelia's face resumed its expressionless appearance once more. Bored now, she glanced up at her butler in his immaculate black suit, awaiting her attention.

"Mistress, the Spider has sent word that they have found a lead regarding the missing items." Grigori reported. "However," he continued, "there has been no news from the Dog." His message delivered, Grigori continued standing motionlessly as he waited for the Princess's orders.

However, the Princess appeared indifferent to the news, choosing not to answer. Instead, she turned back to the doll again. This time eyeing the porcelain skin contemplatively as her hands brought the doll closer and closer to the sharp blades of the scissors.

"I'm so bored, Grigori." The Princess finally replied. "Are the Royal Pets so useless that they can't even provide a little entertainment?"

Suddenly, the sound of a loud crack echoed throughout the playroom as the doll finally shattered, its ash mauve eyes pierced by sharp blades. The broken fragments fell onto the carpeted floor as the Princess gazed at her bleeding hands. Blood ran down her hands like spilt water, dripping at her fingertips. Ruby red droplets that stained the porcelain like so many tears on the face of the broken doll.

Grigori hurried forward as he began sweeping up the mess, attempting to bandage his mistress's injured hands. However, Princess Carmelia jerked them away as soon as he touched them, her eyes cold and dark in her doll-like face.

"Do you know how much I hate dolls? Do you, Grigori?"

Bending down, she snatched a shard of the shattered porcelain, its sharp edges cutting into her hand. However, she did not seem to feel the pain, as she lightly pressed its razor edge into Grigori's face.

"I hate dolls, because they can never grow old or sick nor can they die. Most of all, I HATE dolls that look like me with these dirty colored eyes! Every time someone looked at me, all they could see were those hideous colors. These dirty eyes that told them I was a bastard! Your bastard child!" With a scream, she ripped through Grigori's cheek, causing a gaping wound down his cheekbone to his mouth.

"How does that feel, Daddy? " She spat, digging deeper into the wound.

"Is it painful? It doesn't matter, does it? Because you can't die!" with a rough motion of her arm, she jerked the shard out and watched as the gushing blood began to slow and stop – watched as his skin began to heal.

"You're my live doll now, Grigori." She continued, somewhat calmed by the sight of his blood, "You with your pretty golden hair. Mother used to say your hair was like a halo on the handsomest of angels. Should I cut it off for you?" Even as she spoke her bloodied hands grasped his hair and shore it all off with a few savage sweeps.

"Did you think that if you left us, God would forgive you?" She pressed him, her tone cold as she stroked his cheek with the porcelain shard.

"You left us to the mercy of the dogs and ran. You left us to the pity of my dear Aunt Queen who finally had the conscience to die. YOU LEFT US, and for that even if Mother forgave you, even if the Queen had forgiven you or even if God chose to forgive you now. I WILL NEVER forgive you, my Fallen Angel." Her anger spent, she stood back a little to look at his bloodied face covered with rugged tufts of shorn hair. Yet she felt no satisfaction in her handiwork for no matter what she did, he would heal. No matter how much pain she caused, she could not make it last. Not even the pain in his eyes for the family he had never known.

Her eyes were cruel as she stared down at him kneeling at her feet. Leaning closer to him, she could feel the dark curls of her hair brushing against his face as her lips paused beside his ear. Tightening her grip on the shard, she shoved it deep into his flesh once more, whispering coldly to him -

"You are damned."


	6. Chapter 5

**-Chapter 5-**

_Meanwhile…_

In a small dingy shop, not far from the dark twisting alleyways of the sewers of London, Ciel Phantomhive waited impatiently to solicit the information he needed from the laughing undertaker. The undertaker in question was dressed entirely in colors of black and gray, with an oddly shaped hat with a pointy end. His eyes were covered by his unruly silver hair and on his face was a long thin scar which extended from his left eye diagonally across his right cheek. However, despite his somewhat morbid appearance, he had a huge smile on his face and was currently laughing hysterically.

"Oh…" the undertaker cried, wiping tears of laugher from his face "that is the best joke I've ever heard." Thumping his hand on the counter of the shop, he continued laughing for another few minutes, before his humor and mirth were finally spent. Ciel, however, barely waited for him to stop his laughter before launching a dozen questions at him.

"Eh… You want to know about Alfred Watson (the custodian of the Crown Jewels)? He was stabbed to death with a knife." Moving towards a corner of the shop, he flipped open the lid of a plain wooden coffin, to reveal the Custodian himself. "His face is such a beautiful picture of agony." The Undertaker added with a rapturous sigh.

"Watching his last moments was just sublime. I borrowed his life book from the Death Reaper's Library. Do you want to watch it?" The Undertaker grinned, producing a book from the dusty folds of his black robes.

Ciel nodded, his blue eyes serious, as the Undertaker opened the book and cinematic film came flying out of it, floating weightlessly in the air as it replayed itself. With a wave, the Undertaker fast-forwarded it to the moment of the Custodian's death. Horrified screams filled the air as the Custodian saw his attacker bearing down on him, stabbing him repeatedly in the chest. Blood spurted everywhere, splattering across the walls. Custodian Alfred Watson's death was hardly quick as blood slowly filled his lungs, the sound of his gurgling breaths echoing through the empty chamber. "Wait!" Ciel commanded, expressionless at the tragedy of death unfolding before him. Gesturing for the Undertaker to rewind the film, he watched attentively as each bloody frame slipped back into time. Suddenly, Ciel's eyes widened in realization. "Pause it." Ciel ordered, just as the Custodian was about to be stabbed. Clearly visible in the film above was the image of the murderer.

The murderer had been disguised in a black overcoat and hat that completely hid his features. The upturned collar of the overcoat shielded his face and even his hands were covered in black leather gloves. However, Ciel had caught a flash of gold as the knife plunged downwards, and on closer examination realized that it was actually a reflection of light on a pair of gold cufflinks. The murderer had worn cufflinks with his dress shirt beneath the overcoat. 'Stupidity or cunning?' Ciel wondered. With such obvious gold cufflinks, the murderer must have known that it would draw attention. Arrogance could lead to carelessness. After all, the murderer had planned everything well, and he certainly had not expected to be filmed in such a manner. Yet everything had been too easy. His opponent was leaving breadcrumbs. There was no other explanation. This was a trap. 'No matter', Ciel thought 'I'll bite the bait. Playing games are my specialty.'

"Zoom in" he said, turning to the Undertaker.

"My, my, so bossy today", The Undertaker commented with a grin. With a wave of his hand the image suddenly enlarged. As the cufflinks came into view, Ciel's blue eyes narrowed in contempt, his expression cold. "Of course" he remarked softly.

Imprinted on the cufflinks was the familiar sigil of the Phantomhive crest.


	7. Chapter 6

**-Chapter 6-**

As they left the Undertaker's shop on the dusty corner of Fleet Street, Ciel was still pondering his next move. He was quite sure nobody else had the same resources he had, so they could not possibly know about the cufflinks. However, one could never know. News travelled fast and he knew the Spider was on the case too. He had to get to the bottom of the matter, and fast. If the princess got wind of it, the name of Phantomhive would be dragged through the mud. Ciel's eyes hardened as he made his decision. It was time to act.

"Sebastian, prepare the carriage. We are going to visit Lau."

"Yes, my lord." Sebastian dutifully replied, smiling at the rigid back of his master. Brandishing a pocket watch concealed within his immaculate black coat, he noted the time. "We should be home in time for dinner."

Used to his flippant remarks, Ciel barely glanced at Sebastian as he seated himself in the carriage. Still deep in his thoughts, Ciel absentmindedly fingered the blue sapphire on his right thumb. Looking out the window, he saw the gray stone pavement slowly give way to grimy pebbles. They were entering the London underground. The filth of the country centered in this little space, barely the size of a village. Crossing his legs, Ciel waited as the carriage finally rumbled to a halt outside the smoky gates of an opium den.

Without waiting for Sebastian, Ciel hopped out of the carriage and strode through the door. He instantly regretted the action as opium smoke surrounded him. Sebastian, ever the perfect butler immediately whipped out a pristine white handkerchief from his coat pocket and held it to his master's nose. His gloved hand on his master's shoulder, Sebastian deftly guided Ciel into the heart of the opium den. There, they entered a luscious room that somehow managed to keep out the roiling smoke of opium. Stepping into the room, Ciel finally let out his breath as he filled his lungs with the smoke-free air. Glancing around the room cautiously, he noticed how the walls were of a calming shade of dark green, decorated with paneled wood. Knowing Lau, there would probably be an escape tunnel built in here somewhere, perhaps hidden behind one of the quaint antiques that had been strategically placed around the room. Overall, the tasteful décor of the room portrayed an air of luxury, contrary to the setting of an opium den.

"My, my, what is the Earl of Phantomhive doing here? This is highly unusual." Lau drawled. Sprawled on a plush satin sofa in the middle of the room, Lau smoked contentedly with his eyes closed. Clad in traditional Chinese clothing, with his ruffled black hair, he looked the part of a good-for-nothing idler. However, as a member of the Shanghai mafia and English underworld, Lau was always well-informed. Ciel respected Lau's abilities despite his many eccentricities.

"Lau, I need information." Ciel replied, his voice firm. Staring down at Lau, he waited impatiently as Lau finally sat up. Righting himself, Lau sank back onto the cushions of the sofa, gesturing for his voluptuous bodyguard, Ran Mao. Dressed in a short black and lavender cheongsam with thigh-high black socks, Ran Mao looked more like a mistress than a bodyguard. Her hair was arranged into long braids and two buns like cat-ears on both sides of her head. It was also decorated with a pink rose and gold tassel, framing the left side of her doll-like face. She even acted like a doll. Her delicate features and golden eyes never showed any expression, no matter the occasion. She obeyed Lau's orders without question.

At Lau's gesture, Ran Mao had immediately put down the Chinese fan she had been using to fan him and sat down obediently in his lap. The golden bells on her ankle tinkled as she positioned herself more comfortably against Lau.

"Now then, what kind of information are you seeking? The Queen's jewels?" Resting his hand on Ran Mao's exposed thigh, Lau turned to face Ciel. As always, his smiling expression annoyed Ciel.

"No. I want information on anyone who commissioned gold cufflinks with the Phantomhive crest." Staring seriously at Lau, his blue eyes cold and hard, Ciel's fist clenched against his side. "Someone is trying to frame me for the disappearance of the Crown Jewels. I'm going to hunt him down."

Lau paused for a second as though thinking, his smiling face revealing nothing. Absentmindedly, he stroked Ran Mao while he considered Ciel's words.

"The Phantomhive crest, eh? Well then, I imagine you'll have to pay a visit to Lord Jonathon Lancaster." Lau replied in an amused tone, seemingly unaware of Ciel's apparent anger. "This seems interesting, perhaps I shall tag along." Saying so, he let out another puff of smoke in Ciel's direction.

As the smoke billowed out, his eyes opened into slits for just a fraction of a second. They were dark brown.


	8. Chapter 7

**-Chapter 7-**

_The next day, at Buckingham Palace…  
><em> 

Princess Carmelia stood perfectly still as the palace seamstress carefully adjusted the folds of her coronation gown. Staring at herself in the mirror, Carmelia did not even blink as she examined the voluminous layers of white lace that trailed down onto the floor. The design of the gown was overly frilly and childlike. She hated it. The white cloth of the gown seemed so pure against her pale skin. The ruffles and lace a contrast against her black curls. Not that it mattered, she thought, her eyes cold. The city would burn before she became queen.

The corners of her mouth twisting into a mirthless smile, she turned to glance at Grigori in the reflection of the mirror. Her ash mauve eyes flashed with an emotion akin to rage as she took in his immaculate suit and well-combed hair. His scars had healed and he had trimmed his shorn hair. His white blond locks now fell in gentle waves against his cheekbones. It was as though he was mocking her with that civilized appearance. He was nothing but a servant, lower than a dog! Filled with helpless rage, she slapped the seamstress away, ignoring the wench's pain-filled screams as the needle pierced her finger. Without a word, Carmelia ripped the dress apart, shredding the beautiful material as she stepped out of the gown. Wearing only a thin chemise, she strode out of the fitting room with her butler at her heels.

"Mistress, you should wear something before you catch a cold." Grigori remarked. Carmelia had finally stopped at the doors of her deceased mother's bedchamber. Throwing open the doors she stepped inside. Turning in a circle, she gazed at the familiar surroundings that she remembered as a child. She had instructed for her mother's things to be kept exactly as it was. Nothing had changed. Without looking at Grigori, she simply gestured towards her mother's wardrobe.

"Understood, Mistress." Grigori said obediently, selecting a simple black gown from the stash. Needless to say, the gown of a grown woman was far too big for a slender girl of thirteen. However, with a few quick nips, he adjusted the gown to fit Carmelia. She paid him no mind, lost in her own thoughts. He would not be a Princess's butler if he could not do this much.

"Grigori," Carmelia finally spoke, "do you ever think of my mother?"

For a fraction of a second, Grigori froze. Outwardly, he did not show any sign that he had heard the question, but there was an almost imperceptible tremble about his fingertips.

"Yes, Mistress." He replied quietly, his hands resuming their work as though nothing had happened.

For a long time, silence hung between them like a veiled curtain. Neither said a word to break the tension. The rustles of Carmelia's gown seemed to reverberate in the very stillness of the air. Staring blankly at the walls of the room, Carmelia fiddled with her necklace. She normally kept it in her gown where nobody could see it. However, she would constantly touch it whenever she was alone to reassure herself that it was still there. It had been her mother's final gift to her. The necklace was nothing special, just a ruby hanging on a simple silver chain. Nevertheless, it was beautiful in its simplicity. The jewel had been delicately cut into the shape of a quivering drop of water, the polished surface reflecting the light into a deep red color; a beautiful red like a drop of blood suspended at the hollow of her neck.

Her fingers tracing its smooth curve, Carmelia remembered her mother's face as she had given it to her. She remembered her mother's smile, but most of all, she remembered her mother's swollen eyes. Her mother had been crying. Her mother had always been crying. Her mother was weak. Pushing her memories away, Carmelia glanced down at Grigori's downbent head. Her mother had been weak, but not Carmelia. She was strong and she would stop at nothing to get her revenge. But first, she had to deal with a certain Duke Lawrence and his claim to the throne.

"Grigori, how are my pets getting along?" Carmelia's cold voice finally broke the silence, startling Grigori from his own reverie.

"As you planned, Mistress." Grigori replied smoothly, adding a few finishing touches to the gown.

"The Earl of Trancy has reported new progress. It seems that he has traced the powder found at the scene of the crime to an exclusive French cosmetics shop. He has currently arranged for a stake out so as to catch the perpetrator when she returns to collect her next shipment of products."

Stepping back, Grigori examined his handiwork. Satisfied that the gown was modestly fitting, he started smoothing out Carmelia's tangled curls.

"Boring." Carmelia dismissed with a sniff. "What about the Dog?"

"No news yet, Mistress", Grigori answered. "However, there has been a report from Faustus that the Earl of Trancy is quite eager to make the acquaintance of his peer."

A barely noticeable frown appeared on Grigori's face as he pronounced the name 'Faustus', almost with distaste. However, it vanished almost as soon as it appeared, his calm demeanor revealing nothing. He had long learned to conceal his emotions from the perceptive gaze of his mistress. Emotions were dangerous.

"Eager?" Carmelia repeated, surprised. All of a sudden she started giggling. "Oh Grigori, Claude's as droll as ever. I can't wait to watch this 'eager' meeting. When is it?"

Gregori's eyes gleamed scarlet as he beheld his mistress's amusement.

"The Earl of Trancy is holding a costume ball a week from now. The Earl of Phantomhive has been invited."


	9. Chapter 8

**-Chapter 8-**

_At the Trancy Mansion…  
><em> 

"What did you say?" Alois looked up angrily from his toys.

"How could she have escaped?! You useless idiots!" Alois screamed.

With a sweep of his hand, all the toys he had been playing with fell onto the floor. The toy soldiers hit the floor with a loud clatter that seemed to fill the room. Among the clatter, there was also the sound of a soft object landing on the paneled wood with a thump. It was a soft toy, a white bunny with a blue bow around its neck.

Alois stepped out from behind his desk, stepping onto the rabbit without a thought. A black print marked its pristine white fur, dislodging the top hat and eye patch from the rabbit's head. Shuddering with rage, Alois confronted the triplets kneeling before him. They were whispering among themselves even as they stared up at him. The three butlers looked exactly the same with the same plum colored hair and red eyes. The only difference was how their hair was parted. Thompson had his hair swept to the right; Timber had his swept to the middle and Cantebury's to his left.

"Stop whispering!" Alois shrieked, maddened by their obvious lack of respect. With a booted leg, he kicked Timber. There was a muffled crunch as Timber reeled from the blow, his hair flying into disarray as he swayed backwards. A red bruise began forming around his sunken cheekbone. His twin brothers immediately held onto him in concern, still whispering quietly to each other. Looking even more enraged, Alois looked cruelly around the room for a weapon. Finally setting his eye on a stone figurine paperweight on the desk, he moved back to grab it.

"They are saying that the woman was no normal human. She was fast and sly." Claude remarked, breaking the silence. He had been standing there all the while, even as Alois had stuck his brethren. He had not even lifted an eyebrow at the violence in front of him.

"That's why I sent demons after her. This USELESS bunch that couldn't even capture ONE SIMPLE HUMAN!" Alois yelled as he brought the figurine down onto Thompson's head. A satisfying crack echoed in the room as Thompson's head hit the carpet, blood oozing onto the expensive rug.

"You understand, don't you Claude? I have to punish useless servants or they won't learn."

Turning to Claude, Alois's innocent baby blue eyes gazed imploringly at his butler. However, the blood splattered on his face made him look anything but innocent. Instead, there almost seemed to be a shroud of cruelty and malice surrounding his slim figure.

"Yes, of course" Claude replied, looking decidedly disinterested.

"If you're done here, I would like to report what I have found about the woman who escaped today." With that calm remark, Claude lapsed back into silence awaiting Alois's order.

"Tch" Alois clicked his tongue as he sulked at Claude's reaction. Unwilling to let things go just like that, he swung the figurine at Cantebury's head for good measure, bludgeoning him until he lay like a lifeless doll on the floor. With a final kick, Alois dropped the stone figurine onto the floor with a loud thump, smiling cruelly. With a laugh, he jumped onto the desk, kicking things everywhere until the whole desk was empty. Then sitting himself onto the desk amid the fluttering papers, he swung his legs childishly, motioning for Claude.

Claude appeared entirely unruffled by the pandemonium around him. Instead, he stepped towards Alois, whipping out a pristine white handkerchief from his pocket. Lifting his bloodstained face, Alois smiled delightedly as Claude gently wiped away the blood. His task done, Claude stepped away. He carefully avoided the three bodies sprawled on the carpet, as though afraid of getting his spotless shoes dirtied.

Still grinning, Alois looked up at Claude.

"So? What did you find?" Leaning back, Alois continued swinging his legs.

Pushing his glasses to rest more firmly on his straight nose, Claude began his report.

"The woman's name is Christine Éléonore Fontaine. She's a spy working for the French crown. She recently infiltrated Lord Lancaster's household. It is believed that she is a woman he had taken as a lover during his time in the continent while mourning for his deceased wife. She's been living with him for two years now." Pausing in his speech, Claude could see that Alois was getting bored. He was throwing paper balls onto the demon triplets. However, without even the slightest sign of irritation or annoyance, Claude merely continued on as though nothing had happened.

"Although there is no evidence yet, she is clearly Lord Lancaster's connection to the French and she is the murderer of the Guardian of the Crown Jewels. I will continue digging into her connection with the French until I find anything more of interest to report."

With that, Claude once again pushed up his spotless spectacles and strode over to the bell pull. Pulling onto the soft rope, it was not long before Hannah appeared. She seemed to recoil slightly as she saw the bloody scene laid out before her. However, Claude's impatient gesture brought her to her senses and she immediately began heaving Timber onto her shoulders, half-dragging him out of the room. Claude, meanwhile, bowed slightly to Alois before lifting Thompson and Cantebury without the least bit effort and carried them out the door. Dumping them onto the floor, he closed the door firmly. Stooping down, he grasped the rug and with a swift jerk removed and replaced it with an identical one.

Alois's interest now piqued, he suddenly began clapping his hands in excitement as he watched Claude clean up the room quickly and efficiently. In the blink of an eye, the study seemed to have been restored to its original spotless elegance.

"Wahhh… Claude, you are the best!" Alois laughed, dancing about the room. "It's so clean!" Twirling around for a while more, Alois suddenly stopped before Claude, his eyes narrowed.

"Bring me that woman Claude." Alois paused, smiling sadistically.

"I want her alive."


	10. Chapter 9

**-Chapter 9-**

_Meanwhile…  
><em> 

The minute Ciel stepped into the Lancaster Mansion, he could feel the ominous shadow of death surrounding him. The mansion was quiet, too quiet. The butler had let them into parlor and went to summon his master. Glancing at Sebastian's stillness, Ciel tried to calm himself. Yet no matter what, he could not stop pacing. Lau, on the other hand, had made himself quite at home. Lounging on the parlor sofa with Ran Mao on his lap, it was as though this was his own house.

As Ciel continued pacing, Lau smiled almost reassuringly as he fondled Ran Mao.

"No need to be so restless, Earl. I'm sure everything is al-"

Suddenly, a scream echoed throughout the mansion. Ciel, already on his feet, rushed out of the parlor with Sebastian, Lau and Ran Mao close behind. Heading towards what he assumed to be the study, Ciel burst upon the scene. The room was a gigantic library consisting of rows and rows of books. However, what caught Ciel's attention was not the exotic books but the thick blood that was slowly seeping into the paneled wood floor.

In the midst of the scene, the Lancaster butler was clutching onto the reading chair as he stared in horror at his dying master lying barely two inches away from him. Ciel quickly concluded that the butler must have been the source of the scream. However, that was hardly important in the present situation. Running over to the body, Ciel discovered that Lord Jonathon Lancaster was not yet dead. He had been shot in the chest, puncturing a lung. With every breath he took, more blood spilled out. Pulling out his handkerchief, Ciel tried desperately to stem the blood. His hands bloody with the effort, Ciel dimly realized that he would not be able to save the man.

"Sebastian, help him!" Ciel ordered, desperate as Lord Lancaster's life slowly slipped away.

"I'm sorry my lord but-"

Sebastian never got to finish his sentence, as Lord Lancaster chose at that moment to make one last attempt at speech.

"I never meant to…" He gurgled, blood leaking out of his mouth. Ciel could barely make out the words even as Lancaster struggled.

"The books…" Lancaster continued, fixing his feverish gray eyes onto Ciel as though willing him to understand.

"Yes, go on." Ciel urged. If he could not save Lancaster, he would help him get his revenge. "Tell me, who did this to you?"

With an almost imperceptible shake of his head, Lancaster opened his mouth one last time.

"Save… Princess…"

Blood spilled from his mouth as Lord Lancaster gave one last bloody gurgle before finally going limp. In the silence that followed, Ciel could hear the sound of blood slowly trickling onto the floor. Stunned, Ciel barely breathed. The silence sounded deafening.

"My Lord." Sebastian spoke, helping Ciel up. Gently carrying him back to the parlor, Sebastian placed him onto the plush sofa. It was a while before Ciel came back to his senses. That red, it had reminded him of something… Something he once knew. He tried as hard as he could to remember it, but all he saw was that shade of red before his eyes - the color of blood. His head began to hurt terribly. It was as though his skull was shrinking, compressing him. Suddenly, an image flashed before his eyes.

_Madam… Red..._

"Earl, look what I've found!" Lau's loud voice broke into his thoughts, shattering the image. What about Madam Red? Come to think of it, Ciel had not seen Madam Red for some time. Normally, she would come to visit him every fortnight or so. He would have to ask Sebastian about it later.

Pulling himself back to the present, Ciel looked up to what Lau was holding. It was a stack of journals, each one religiously filled with miniscule handwriting.

"It seems dear Lord Lancaster was a very astute and organized man." Lau remarked flipping through the journals. "It would seem we have all the evidence right here."

"Let me see that" Ciel demanded. His blue eyes filled with determination. Now was not the time to worry about his aunt, he wanted to get to the bottom of this matter. Quickly skimming through the journals, he read the latest entry.

_12 November 1889_

_I can't go through with this. No matter what they have on me, I cannot commit murder! I am prepared to turn in my journals to the Princess for her to do as she sees fit. I am guilty of plotting against the crown and I am fully prepared to accept the consequences. Yet come what may, I would prefer to die honorably at the hands of my English brethren than at the hands of those French dogs!_

Ciel stared in growing horror as he read the words from the journal. The date, 12 November, that was yesterday; and today Lancaster lay dead in his own blood. The murderer may already have the princess.

Ciel's blue eyes were lit with icy flames as he flung the journal aside in impotent rage, striding quickly towards the door.

"Sebastian, get the carriage ready! We leave for Buckingham Palace!"


	11. Chapter 10

**-Chapter 10-**

Ciel could feel his blood rushing through his ears as the carriage sped through the streets of London towards the Buckingham Palace. Although it was barely three streets from the Lancaster Mansion to the Buckingham Palace, to him it felt miles apart. Clutching his fist, he stared blankly out the window, his mind racing. What would he do if the Princess was dead?

It seemed almost eons later before the carriage came to an abrupt stop. Jumping out, Ciel ran to the palace door, barely stopping to ask for the princess's location before setting off at a dead run. He was sweating profusely and out of breath when he saw the princess. She was sitting in her gazebo in the rose garden drinking tea. She was alright. Ciel silently let out a sigh of relief as he made his way into the garden. However, he suddenly realized the princess was not alone. There was a boy with her. Ciel tensed as he observed the boy. Ciel had never seen him before.

Stepping into the gazebo, Ciel bowed to the princess.

"Your highness"

"Oh", the Princess said, glancing up. "Earl Phantomhive, we were expecting you-"

Carmelia had barely finished her sentence when Ciel was suddenly embraced by the boy.

"Ciel!" the boy exclaimed. "It's really you! Ciel Phantomhive! I've wanted to meet you for so long, since I saw you in that suitcase."

Ciel suddenly felt something wet behind his ear as the boy's tongue shot out, licking him. Ciel instinctively pushed him away, shocked and angered by his sudden action.

"What suitcase? Who are you?" Ciel demanded, his eyes promising retribution for the insult.

"Me?" the boy smiled eagerly "I'm Alois Trancy. You should have heard of me by now. I'm the Spider." Giggling excitedly, he peered expectantly at Ciel.

"That's enough, Alois." Carmelia said disapprovingly. "I'm sure Earl Phantomhive didn't come here to exchange pleasantries with you."

"Yes, your highness." Ciel immediately responded. "I have come to inform you about a plot to assassinate you-"

"Oh, that" the princess said airily, waving a gloved hand at him. "I'm afraid you're a tad late. The assassin's dead, Alois made sure of that."

Ciel flushed with humiliation at the Princess's insinuation. However, he quickly regained his composure, trying his best to ignore Alois who was still grinning smugly at him. Turning back to the princess, he asked "Did you question the assassin before he died?"

"He?" Princess Carmelia frowned. "Oh my, it seems you really are behind Earl. It was a 'she' not a 'he'; and no I did not question her. Unfortunately, she had a cyanide capsule hidden in her mouth. She poisoned herself before we got anything out of her. I'm sure Alois will be more than happy to fill you in on the details."

Gesturing towards Alois, Carmelia proceeded to ignore Ciel, choosing instead to dig into the delicious strawberry shortcake that her butler had brought. Meanwhile, Alois was more than happy to oblige the princess. Leaning forward, he started talking animatedly to Ciel, the rush of words barely intelligible.

"You know when the old fart, I mean the Guardian, got himself killed. Claude found this gray powder at the crime scene. Claude's my butler. Isn't he amazing?" At this point, Alois sighed with admiration, before plunging back into his narration.

"Anyway, Claude traced it to this French cosmetics shop and stole their accounting books to figure out who was the murderer. It was this French spy who had been living with Lancaster. Bet you didn't know that, did you? We staked out the shop to catch the little slut but she gave us the slip before we caught her. But Claude found out where she lived so we searched her place and found out about the plot and came here to stop it. Claude caught her before she could do anything. Too bad she died before we could have some fun. But it's ok now, because I got to meet you."

Alois's eyes practically sparkled with delight as he gazed gleefully at Ciel who remained stoically passive. Trying not to let his irritation show, Ciel leaned back into his sit, assessing his new competition. It would seem this Alois Trancy was not very bright. However, he had beaten Ciel this round. He would do well to be more careful about Alois, Ciel thought. Alois Trancy was definitely not what he seemed.

"Ahem" Princess Carmelia cleared her throat now that Alois was done with his story. She had tried not to grimace at his crudeness but still could not mask the distaste in her eyes. How could he use that kind of language in public!

"I'm afraid, Alois has also brought me something from the assassin's lodging." Princess paused, placing something on the table. "I believe these belong to you."

Gleaming golden in the afternoon sunlight, the gold cufflinks seemed blinding to Ciel. He knew it would probably be useless to protest if the Princess thought him capable of treason. He did not have any proof to show that he was innocent.

"Your highness," Sebastian suddenly spoke, stepping silently forward. Alois and Carmelia glanced up in surprise at the sudden interruption. Sebastian had been so quiet and still before that Alois and Carmelia had barely noticed his presence.

"I'm afraid that in all the excitement my master has forgotten about these." Sebastian said, brandishing Lord Lancaster's journals. Selecting one of them, he opened it and presented it to the Princess.

"I'm sure you can see the evidence here, your highness. These cufflinks were actually commissioned by a Duke Lawrence and collected by Lord Lancaster."

"Oh I see" the Princess said in surprise as she scrutinised the faded receipt. There was no doubt about it now; Duke Lawrence had set Phantomhive up to take the fall while plotting murder.

"One more thing, your highness," Sebastian continued, flipping the journal to an earlier page. "I'm sure you would like to know where the crown jewels have been hidden."

**Author's note: **

**Hello everyone, thank you so much for reading my story. Don't worry, I'm not done yet. There's still quite a lot more to go. I just want to mention that I'm going to incorporate part of Kuroshitsuji season 2 into my plot in case you get confused about the references to Madam Red (in the last chapter) and the suitcase (which Alois talks about in this chapter). If you haven't watched season 2 yet, Ciel has lost his memories about what happened in season 1 as his soul was stolen by Claude before Sebastian ate him. During that time, Sebastian went to the Trancy mansion to retrieve Ciel's soul while carrying Ciel's body around in a suitcase. Alois's comment the suitcase is hence referring to the first time he saw Ciel when Ciel was lying lifelessly in a suitcase. That's all for now, I hope you've enjoyed the story and please continue reading! **


	12. Chapter 11

**-Chapter 11-**

Alois pursed his lips in annoyance as he looked up from the piece of paper in his hand. On it was written the location of the Crown Jewels. Checking to see if he was at the right place, Alois stepped into the Swedish bank. Immediately, the bank manager was summoned to greet him. It was not every day a noble to make a personal trip to the bank. They had trusted bookkeepers and men of finance to look to that.

"Earl Trancy, what a pleasant surprise! How may I help you today?" The manager bowed to Alois, his beefy face aglow as he eyed Alois's expensive clothes.

"I have come to collect something." Alois said, barely glancing at the man. "My butler will pass you the receipt."

Pacing about, Alois fumed as he waited impatiently for the manager to get the safe deposit box. Why was he sent to collect the crown jewels?! He had figured out the plot, it was him who had saved the princess's life! Why was it Ciel Phantomhive who got to arrest the culprit?!

"Ciel Phantomhive…" he muttered.

_Meanwhile…_

Ciel instinctively ducked as Duke Lawrence swung at him with a knife. Ciel had expected resistance but surely this was too much. The Duke must have known that he could not possibly escape an arrest order by the princess even if he killed Ciel. It made no sense at all. Ciel would not have been surprised if the Duke had tried to slip away and escape, but instead he had idly stood there as Ciel read the arrest warrant, launching himself at Ciel when he had the chance.

"She should have died!" the Duke screamed, slashing wildly. "I was meant to be KING!"

Rolling to the side, Ciel glanced around for a weapon. By coincidence, his walking stick lay barely inches away from him. He must have dropped it when the Duke had attacked him. Sidestepping another lounge, Ciel winced as he felt the knife bite into his left arm. 'Damn it' he thought, 'where is Sebastian?!'

He could hear the cries and shouts of the men around him as he fought for his life. The duke had hired thugs to kill him and the handful of police he had brought with him. 'Stupid', Ciel cursed himself again. If only he had brought more men. Grasping the walking stick firmly, he dodged another attack, this time barely getting away. With a twist of his hands, he suddenly unsheathed a rapier that had been cleverly hidden in his walking stick. With a thrust, he managed to force the Duke back. However, this only made the Duke angrier as he launched himself at Ciel again, ignoring the pain even as Ciel's rapier slashed at his torso.

"You can't stop ME! I AM YOUR KING!"

All of a sudden, Ciel felt the ground lurch beneath him as one of the Duke's thugs kicked him from behind. Landing on his back, the Duke suddenly had his knife at Ciel's neck.

"You will acknowledge me!" the Duke shrieked his fingers ripping off Ciel's eyepatch. "Look at me!" Ciel's right eye was still closed as his left stared defiantly at the Duke. Looking up at the Duke, Ciel gave a start as he finally realized something was clearly wrong. The Duke's face was pale and drawn as though he had not slept for weeks. His eyes were crazed and appeared overly huge compared to the rest of him. If Ciel did not know better, he would have thought the Duke was one of the men that frequented Lau's opium dens. However, all of the information he had received indicated that the Duke should have been a healthy regular boy of seventeen, not this insane lunatic hell-bent at becoming king. All this had barely flashed through Ciel's mind as the duke raised his knife to strike.

In that split second, Ciel's right eye opened, revealing his contract. His eye seemed to glow with a purplish hue as he took in his impending death. "SEBASTIAN!" Ciel yelled.

In that instant, Sebastian seemed to materialize out of thin air, kicking the duke aside as he scooped up his master. Jumping with lightning speed, Sebastian carried Ciel away, just in time to escape a spray of bullets.

"You're late." Ciel remarked, his eyes accusing.

"My apologies" Sebastian replied in an amused tone, landing softly on the banister of the second floor corridor. "I was cleaning up."

Looking down, Ciel realized that all of the thugs had been wiped out. The policemen were safe and had surrounded the last remaining thug and his master the Duke. Seeing that there was no way out, the thug immediately gave up resistance, dropping his weapon to the ground. However, his master had no such intentions.

"You fool!" he shouted, "fight them!"

"I'm afraid it's too late" Ciel said calmly, "You're coming with us Duke Lawrence."

Suddenly, the duke threw his knife at Ciel, pushing the police out of his path as he tried to escape. However, one of the policemen quickly tackled him to the ground, handcuffing him. Meanwhile, Sebastian smoothly grabbed the thrown knife; its blade inches away from Ciel's face.

Ciel barely blinked as he stared at the knife in Sebastian's gloved hands. Sebastian quickly let go of the blade, allowing it to fall harmlessly to the floor. Sebastian smiled, handing Ciel his eye patch. He must have retrieved it when he carried Ciel out of danger. Ciel absentmindedly put it on as he stared down at the Duke being dragged away.

"Sebastian" Ciel commanded; his expression troubled. "There is something wrong about this. Find the butler, maids, anyone who has seen the goings on in this place. I want this matter looked into."

Placing his right hand on his shoulder, Sebastian bowed.

"Yes, My Lord."


	13. Chapter 12

**-Chapter 12-**

Alone in the mansion, Ciel closeted himself in his study, thinking. Sebastian had gone to interrogate the Duke's staff after sending Ciel back to the Phantomhive estate. However, left on his own, Ciel was beginning to feel more and more unsettled. There was something very obviously wrong with the case. He just could not put his finger on it. Closing his eyes, he leaned back in his armchair, replaying the sequence of events in his mind.

First, the Crown Jewels had gone missing. That had led to the discovery of Lord Lancaster's partnership with Duke Lawrence in betraying the crown to the French. The French had been associated with Lancaster's mistress. But why steal the Crown Jewels in the first place? That was sloppy. If they had wanted depose the Princess and place Duke Lawrence in the crown, surely a quiet assassination would have been a lot cleaner then stealing the Crown Jewels… Unless the theft was a smokescreen for something else. Then there was the behaviour of the crazed Duke. Not just the French was involved. Someone else must be pulling the strings – but who and why?

Opening his eyes, Ciel stared at the ceiling, his head throbbing from the exhaustion of the past few hours. Suddenly, a sharp pain sliced through his head.

_Blood. The city filled with darkness. Souls lost and wailing as bodies were strewn across the street. That yellowish glow, fire. Everything, everything was burning. Atop the chaos and destruction was a figure perched upon a bridge. All the souls were flowing towards it, being trapped by it, becoming one with it. _

_They were all screaming. _

"Young Master, are you feeling unwell?" Sebastian's voice cut through the nightmare.

Startled, Ciel turned to face his butler, trying to mask his confusion. "It's nothing. What have you found?" Ciel asked, returning his mind to the matter at hand.

Sebastian appeared to frown slightly, as though in disapproval, but did not disobey.

"It appears several of the maids have disappeared from the Duke's mansion, most notably the night maid who served the Duke's medicine every night."

"Medicine?" Ciel repeated.

"Yes. It appears that the Duke had an unfortunate affliction of the nerves which required constant medication."

"However," Sebastian paused, pulling out a small object from his breast pocket, "it seems that was not all he was being served."

"This drug, Lady Blanc, had been mixed in with his nightly medicine. It is a new underground drug that supposedly gives euphoria and, taken in substantial amounts, causes hallucinations."

"In other words," Ciel continued, fingering the small case of white powder, "someone was controlling him."

"Was there anything about this Lady Blanc in Lancaster's journals?" Ciel asked, his eyes grim and serious.

"No, young master." Sebastian answered, amusedly watching the emotions play on his master's face as Ciel's eyes flashed with anger.

Someone was playing with them.

His lip curling with disgust, Ciel stared straight at Sebastian, his back stiff with determination and fury. "Sebastian, find that maid."

"I already did, young master." Sebastian smiled "Unfortunately, we were a little too late. The mastermind was careful not to leave any loose ends. We found the maid's dead body together with the Duke."

"The Duke?!" Ciel's eyes flashed. "Is he…"

"I'm afraid so, young master." Sebastian continued, his lips curling in distaste at the thought of being outwitted by his prey.

"It appears that she managed to sneak into the carriage of the Duke while they were escorting him to the Tower of London and finished her work."

"Damn it!" Ciel pounded his fist on the table, hating the helplessness of his situation. "I will not let this murderer make a fool of the Phantomhive name!"

"Sebastian, this is an order! Find out who is behind all this!"


	14. Chapter 13

**-Chapter 13-**

_The next morning, at Buckingham Palace…_

Gregori found Carmelia in the ballroom, playing with one of her new instruments. She had been receiving gifts from many a lord since the announcement of her coronation. Some were dresses, some were toys and some were musical instruments – each one a bribe. All of which had increased in richness and quantity since Lord Lancaster's death, as though such favors could so easily absolve them of blame. Carmelia had of course received each gift with due gratitude and easy assurance to each of the lords and ladies, but what she was planning, none could fathom. They could only chance the faint hope of her pleasure and plot on their escape.

Meanwhile, Carmelia had taken especially to one of the musical instruments given to her by Lord Randall and had gone to the ballroom to practice her playing. The instrument is question was a glass armonica, delicately fashioned, the stand gilded in silver. Each glass cup was of a different size, each producing a different note when stroked and rubbed using a wet finger. The instrument was most fashionable in court at the moment, yet few could play it with the deftness of the Princess. Thus, on this day, a few young ladies of the court had chosen to attend the Princess to listen to her playing and meanwhile attempt to befriend the young queen-to-be.

In the corner of the ballroom, Gregori waited for the Princess to finish playing, motionless as wave after wave of pure crystalline notes washed over him. The tune was almost eerily beautiful, each sound startling in its soft intensity even as the Princess spun and rubbed the glass faster and faster. Finally, the song ended in a long haunting note as the ladies clapped in admiration. Carmelia stood and curtsied at the applause, smiling all the while. She looked most a child then, pretty and innocent and pleased at her accomplishments. However, when her eyes met Gregori's across the room, it held a cruel malice which was gone an instant later.

"My ladies, I'm pleased that you have enjoyed my poor playing, but I'm afraid that I can no longer entertain you this afternoon." Carmelia said as she turned back to the waiting ladies.

"I beg your pardons, but I have other urgent matters to attend to." She continued her face contrite as she gave what no less amounted to an abrupt dismissal of her unwanted playmates. "All of you are of course welcome to stay and make yourselves comfortable. I am sure the servants will see to your comforts."

With that, Carmelia swept out of the room, Gregori following at her heels. Out in the hallway, Carmelia stopped and turned to face her butler, her expression one of innocent expectation.

"So Gregori, how is my game progressing?" she asked, her tone happy and excited, almost as if she was asking about a new toy.

"Mistress, Duke Lawrence is dead. He was murdered on his way to the Tower of London. The perpetrator committed suicide before she could be arrested."

"Oh dear," the Princess sighed, turning away "another dead relation."

Tilting her head as she glanced back at Gregori, her lips twisted in amusement. "How many dead relations do I already have Gregori?"

"Three, Mistress." Gregori replied, his voice and demeanor as indifferent as if they were discussing the weather.

"Three," Carmelia savored the word, "and many more to come."

"Gregori," Carmelia called as she glanced at him, her ash-mauve eyes betraying her pleasure, "make sure our good friends of the nobility hear of the Duke's unfortunate demise."

With a silvery laugh, she made her way back to her room, the sound the echoing through the hallway like the sweet tinkle of bells, each note as pure and crystalline as the armonica she had played earlier. The sound as chilling as the armonica's tune – the madness of the devil's instrument.

_Later that day,_

The nobles convened a council in secret to discuss the matter of the Duke's sudden death. As always, Advisor Galen had managed to innocuously present himself at the meeting even though he had not been invited. The nobles bristled at his presence but said nothing.

Meanwhile, a raging debate was taking place among the polished wooden tables of the Marquis's hall.

"Princess Carmelia cannot ignore the Duke's death! This is an insult to England! How dare those French dogs plot to kill Duke Lawrence! We must answer, and answer with war!" Marquis Midford roared. His determination to protect his country was a noble sentiment and many cheered in answer to his cry. However, despite the answers of "war!" and "England", most of the nobles seated among the tables were more concerned about the profits of war than their country's well-being. Wolves could always smell when there was prey to be had, and the lords and ladies of England were no different than those vicious predators at the scent of gold and riches.

On the other hand, there were those, who argued most valiantly against such needless bloodshed and violence, trying desperately to persuade the Marquis to negotiations with France. Unfortunately, they were most dismally outnumbered and could barely be heard above the din.

Finally, as the room was about to burst out into violence, Adviser Galen rapped his walking stick on the table and brought the room to silence.

"Let us take a vote", he announced, "so we may give the best possible advice to our Princess and to England."

The opposition shied at such a notion, knowing full well that they stood to lose within a heartbeat. "Adviser Galen!" one of them cried out in desperation "Surely you do not support such folly! War would destroy us all!"

"We will take a vote." Advisor Galen repeated, undeterred, his voice soft but firm as he stared unrelentingly at the speaker. "What I support is the good of England and that will be determined by the collective voice of all of us here today."

With that, the battle was lost and everyone knew what the outcome would be, a fate of bloodshed and battle – of war.


	15. Chapter 14

**-Chapter 14-**

The clear morning light streamed into the hall of the Phantomhive Mansion as Ciel sat down to breakfast after the horror and mystery of the previous night. He had hardly been able to sleep, unable to stop pondering over the strangeness of the Duke's behaviour. Nevertheless, Sebastian had still arrived bright and early in the morning to ensure that Ciel was up, awake and properly dressed before the breakfast hour. This was of course then followed with a lavish elegant meal prepared by none other than the perfect butler. Unfortunately, the master of the house consuming the food seemed of no mind to pay attention to whatever he was eating. He merely chewed and swallowed the delicate scone pastries with practiced distraction while his mind wandered once again to the events of the night before.

Soon, breakfast was over and Ciel emerged from his thoughts to glance at Sebastian helping Mey-Rin clear the dishes without breaking anything. With an exasperated sigh, Ciel shook his head at the building mayhem and stalked off to find some quiet refuge in his study. Sebastian soon appeared close behind, ready to give his report for the day and remind the Lord of Phantomhive of his numerous duties.

Settling more comfortably into his armchair, Ciel turned to face his immaculate butler as Sebastian began to speak.

"There has been a rather interesting piece of news that I picked up this morning. It appears that the Ambassador of France was murdered earlier today. His body was found floating down the Thames in a state of undress. Scotland Yard is currently investigating the matter."

"Scotland Yard? What can those bunch of idiots find?" Ciel muttered to himself. "Sebastian, see what else you can find about this Ambassador and his murder."

"Of course, my Lord. It is already done." Sebastian replied without missing a beat. "The Ambassador was murdered at the French Embassy at about 4 o'clock this morning. He appears to have been strangled to death, stripped naked and dumped into the river in no less than 40 minutes."

"On his body," Sebastian continued softly "was this." Reaching into his breast pocket, Sebastian pulled out a pristine white handkerchief wrapped around a round looking object.

With a flourish, Sebastian unveiled the object in his hand to be a dead Tarantula spider. It was curled up and shrivelled in his palm, but still large enough to have been the size of a child's fist. Its red eyes though dim and glassy seemed menacing even in death.

"A Spider" Ciel repeated, his eyes flashing. It was hardly difficult to figure out the sender of this unpleasant calling card. His boldness and arrogance was either utter foolishness or a cunning challenge.

Ciel leaned back into his chair, his expression contemptuous. "Perhaps its time we learned more about this Earl of Trancy."

Tugging at his gloves, Sebastian smiled in response. "I do believe we've been invited to a costume ball."


End file.
